Happy Valentine's Day From: Satan
by TheMannMan
Summary: Valentine's Day. A day for lovers to enjoy and for the unloved to envy. For one Miles Edgeworth, however, it was always a day of misery, pain, and endurance.


Miles Edgeworth ran down his morning checklist as he rode the elevator down to his car garage.

_Woke up: Check._

_Showered: Check._

_Brushed teeth/combed hair/groomed: Check._

_Clothes: Check, thank god._

_Breakfast of coffee, sausage__ and eggs: Check._

_Mail: …__dammit_

Pushing the button quickly to take him to the right destination, he then exited the elevator and went to unlock his mailbox. He wished that it would remain locked forever half a second later.

_Oh good god…_ was the only thing his brain could think up. _Is it that day already? __Dammit_

He had always resolved to prepare for this day. Ever since his fame as a prosecutor had spread throughout the nation, he swore that today would be one he would be ready for. No surprises. No bumps. Just another typical day at his job.

But as he opened his mailbox to find a waterfall of flowers, chocolates, and various heart-shaped things, there was one fact that he could not escape from:

Once again, he would have to endure Valentine's Day.

Sighing dejectedly, he grabbed a nearby trashcan and placed it in front of the never-ending torrent of pink and red. _Maybe it'll be finished when I get back from the office this year._

Riding the elevator down to his car, he hoped with all his heart that his mailbox would be the last thing that grated his nerves before he actually left his building. Of course, nothing ever really went his way.

At the bottom of the ride, the doors opened to his red sedan, as usual. Unusually, it was covered in more of the same pink, red and white paper, taped on mercilessly to every square inch of his vehicle. Edgeworth growled to himself as he tore off the offending affectionaires from the essential areas: The windows, the windshield, and the wheels. Leaving the rest of the cards to do as they pleased until the day was over, he drove out of his lot and onto the highway towards the courthouse, the more weakly-bonded cards fluttering away behind him.

* * *

"Your office received quite a bit of mail at the prosecutor's office this morning, sir!" Detective Gumshoe greeted, as Edgeworth made his way inside. "Would you like to see?" 

"I want you to burn it," was the reply, "And when it's done, I want you to burn it again. And I want you to repeat the process until there is nothing but a fine powder. And then I want you to take that fine powder and ship it off into the sun."

"So…just like every year, sir?" Gumshoe asked, quite jovially.

"**Yes,** like every year. Now go! I have to prepare for my case today…" he said, sighed, and trudged over to the Prosecutor's lobby to review. _I can only thank god that they don't allow anyone in here who could distract me…_

Closing the door behind him, he sat on one of the couches to review the case. "Chris P. Bacon…found with a bloody steak knife in front of his recently stabbed wife…quite a lovely tale for today. Wright's probably sweating buckets by this point. Looks like I win to-"

_...a-__choo..._

_What the…_ Never one to ignore a small, mysterious sound, Edgeworth went over to the potted plant in the corner room. There didn't seem to be anything amiss about it; no one hiding behind it or anything, but he had seen this trick before. Lifting the foliage by its false leaves, the fake plant popped off and inside in hiding sat too many girls than could possibly occupy the space. One smiled and waved, nervously. "It was better when you tried it last year," he said.

The next thing they knew, they were rolling down the hallway inside of the pot after being kicked by the sole of a prosecutor's fancy shoe.

* * *

He wished he just hadn't gotten up today. 

The minute he entered the courtroom, he winced in pain, clutching his ears to shield himself from the clamoring of the multitude of women that took audience that day. The poor Judge had to bring out the Super Deluxe Gavel XLXLXLIIIII with Dental Floss to get the court in order that day.

After recovering himself (and waiting for the unprepared Phoenix to do the same), Edgeworth spread his assorted evidence on his desk, and waited for the Judge's call.

"So…we're here for the trial of a Mr. Chris P. Bacon. Is the defense ready?"

"The defense is ready, your honor."

"The prosecution, as we-"

"_EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!__ HESAIDITOHMIGODOHMIGOD EEEEEEEEEEE…"_

_BANG! BANG! BANG!_

"Order, order dammit!" the judge cried out in frustration. "Why…don't we let the defense speak first, for today. Is that alright with you, Prosecutor?"

Edgeworth, collapsed behind the desk, managed to raise a weak 'OK' sign before falling again.

Phoenix stood up, supporting himself greatly with his hands, and coughed some blood into a trash can underneath the bench. "Mr. Bacon…was found standing over his wife, laughing maniacally, covered in her blood. He was holding the murder weapon, also blood-soaked, as well, and no one else's fingerprints are on it. No one else was linked to the crime scene. However," he said, slamming his hands on his desk, "there is no evidence showing that he did the crime!"

_**"**__**OBJECTION!"**_

"_EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE HESAIDITNOWAYOHMIGODBETTERTHANTEEVEEEEEEEEEEE"_

_BANG! BANG! BANG!_

"Don't make me bring out my big guns!" the Judge warned, "You're making me wanna bring out my big guns!"

"Y…you…" Edgeworth got out, not wanting to miss that outlandish claim, "You can't be serious! You just stated what most courts would call a 'guilty' verdict! How can you even THINK that…"

_"HE'SSOHOTWHENHECHEWSOUTSPIKEYLIKETHATAND HE'SGOTSUCHACOOLOUTFITDIDYOUCHECKOUTHISASSWELOVEYOUEDGEEEEEEYYYYYYY!"_

"That's it!" the Judge shouted, "I'm breaking out Matilda!"

Before he could do that, Edgeworth shouted to the courtroom, "That's it! I don't care anymore! The prosecution has no objections whatsoever. Good **day!"** Hastily packing his things back into his briefcase, he dashed out of the courtroom, hoping with all of his being that they wouldn't chase him.

His hopes came to fruition when he heard the Judge yelling inside of the courtroom doors. "Come on, Matilda! It's time to go whack-a-mole!"

* * *

"Nick? Niick…" Maya, a few hours after, wandered through the courtroom hallway. "Where'd you go? Niick…" 

"Maya!" came a small voice from the courtroom, "I found him! But he doesn't look too good…"

Maya rushed over to the main room, finding Pearl staring at the defense's bench. Underneath, she could hear small mutters repeated over and over. Steeling herself for what would come next, she bent over and took a look below. "Nick? Are you alright?"

Nick, wild-eyed and curled up in the fetal position, could only mutter one phrase over and over again. "Can't come out…Judge is a monster…can't come out…Judge is a monster…"

* * *

Edgeworth finished writing the details on yet another piece of paper and sighed. It figured, of course, that the day that he decided to walk out on a trial that he had an extra amount of paperwork to file out. 

Looking outside his door, he saw a massive train of suit-wearing men, each carrying bulging sacks. Franziska, of course, was doing no more work than whipping the train into shape. "Come on, you lazy fools! We have to get this all to the incinerator! If you can't do this, I can't see how you fools could ever hope to get this to the sun!" A collective groan came from the long train.

"Why am I stuck suddenly with so much paperwork, Franziska?" Edgeworth asked, hoping to ease some of his duldrums.

Franziska pointed her whip at the long line, adding, "They had stuff to do too, you know. It's only fair you do their work in exchange for them helping your problems."

"A problem I never asked for mind you…" he growled.

"You know, if you just settled down with someone, you wouldn't have this foolish dilemma," she said, giving her whip another crack, "Hasn't anyone struck your fancy?"

Edgeworth gave a disbelieving laugh. "No one. Everyone drives me crazy before the possibility comes up. And besides, it'd still happen. Year after miserable year."

Franziska shrugged. "I guess. I can see why you left the country for a while. You have about eight more hours before it's officially over."

"I can only hope so…give Gumshoe a double load, would you?"

She grinned. "I already gave him five bags each time. He's done twenty trips."

"Thanks…I feel better, now."

* * *

Edgeworth rubbed his temples as he rode the elevator down to the car garage. Today was just one headache after another. As usual. With his mountain of paperwork finished, he looked forward to nothing more than going home and to bed. Glancing at his watch revealed it to be 8:24. A time way too late to ever be at the office. Walking out to the garage, he slumped tiredly into the driver's seat and turned the ignition on. 

And the car failed to start.

Edgeworth blinked, tried again, and cursed quietly at the steering wheel. On par for the course of his day, he supposed. He reluctantly got out, walked around, and checked his exhaust pipe, making his worst fears come true.

In that vital component of automobiles lay some choking substance. At first, Edgeworth could not tell what exactly was clogging it, but a distinct smell from the light brown substance gave it away shortly.

_Chocolate…they stuck…chocolate…in my tailpipe…_

Praying for all it was worth that he'd never have to use that sentence again in any context, he tried to extricate the offending cocoa with a small pipe nearby. Unfortunately, to no avail, for it had, through the heat of starting the car, melted completely inside the pipe, making it impossible to remove.

Throwing dignity to the wind, Edgeworth sat down on the cement, staring furiously into that small exhaust pipe of doom, before exhaling a curse that would rebound through the garage for decades.

* * *

Fortunately, every good prosecutor is prepared for any situation whatsoever. As such, Edgeworth's closet in the back of his office provided him with a sleeping bag, pillow, pajamas, and assorted toiletries. He was used to occasionally working himself to sleep in here and was always prepped with a spare bedset just in case. 

Laying his head down on his sweet, soft pillow, he closed his eyes and hoped to all creation that this was the right idea. After all, Franziska and everyone else would be carting his mail towards the sun by now, so they were out. Walking was simply out of the question, as that ran the possibility of being in a situation much worse than the one he experienced in the courtroom today. The same danger held for any sort of public transportation. And Wright, his last option, wasn't picking up at all. No, staying the night here was acceptable. He would just have to worry about someone stepping on him by mistake in the morning..

_…clank…_

Edgeworth groaned on his pillow. _Oh no…no! No. I am__ through. __With everything.__I am NOT getting up from this bed. Not now. Not until I have had a good night__'s__ sleep and I have for__gotten all of my i__rritation from this day. No circumstance can make me__. No._

_…clunk-clack…__CLANGalangalangalang__…_

_Oh God damn it._

Reluctantly, he got out from the warmth of his sack and went to investigate his newfound disturbance.

* * *

That had done it. He had systematically opened every door in the complex and had found nothing. Nor had he found anything that could make such a sound reverberate through the halls. The only thing left was for him to check the restroom, then he and his sated curiosity could go to bed. 

Flipping the light switch, he found that it, too, was happily empty. No people. Just the toilet, the sink, the hand dryer, the open air vent…

_Wait…what?!_

Unbelievably, the air vent in the lavatory had had its grill taken completely off. As such, there was a hole wide open, large enough for a person to fit through. Chills ran up and down Edgeworth's spine. _Oh no…I locked the doors, right? The front ones, the back ones, the ones on this floor…_

At that moment, the lights flickered a bit before switching off altogether, and the shrill laughter of a thousand voices was heard throughout the halls.

_"You have seen too much…"_ the thousand voices spoke, coming from every which direction.

Edgeworth, wide-eyed in shock, dashed out of the bathroom as fast as he could, opting to duck into an adjacent room with a window (and some light from the glow of the streetlights below). All the while the laughter continued, sending chills up Edgeworth's spine. He backed up to the window, grabbing a broom from the nearby closet, and stood poised ready to strike whatever came near him. _Gotcha…I can see from here…and the only way you can come in would through that door. After all, the window is five stories up…_

His internal monologue was abolished when his light was somehow mysteriously put in shadow, and a taunting single voice seemed to whisper in his ear, "Nice jammies, lover boy…"

Yelping a bit despite himself, Edgeworth turned around to find a great multitude of shadowed heads turned in his direction. Then all at once, each face lit a flashlight, exposing impish grins on each and every one.

"_Happy Valentine's Day…"_ came the haunting call of the window faces.

"ARG!" Bursting out of the room, he ran with all due haste towards the stairs, so as to dash out the front door and into the freedom of the well-lit streets. A swift inspection, however, brought him to a locked stairwell door. "What the…I didn't lock this!" Edgeworth was beyond keeping his thoughts contained. "I…I don't even have the keys to this!"

_"We wouldn't want you to run away just yet…we would __**so**__ like to have you for dinner…__keeheeheehee__!"_

_If God was a merciful creature there'd be a shotgun in my office about now…my office! It has a metal shutter on the window, no vents, and a sturdy door frame!_ His last ray of hope thus revealed to him, he made one last desperate dash towards his sanctuary, shoving and leaping over everything that was in his way. Down one more hall…sweet safety! At last!

Three steps from the door, however, Edgeworth tripped over a well-concealed wire, falling face first in front of his door. The laughter grew louder…and didn't go back down. If anything, it creeped up on him, like an intangible force, clutching at his feet, his arms, his legs, his pajamas…

"NO!" Edgeworth, through sheer willpower, made one last leap into his safe hole, slamming his door behind him. He immediately pulled down the shutter, bolted it, locked it, locked it with a second lock, ran a Chinese-finger-torture-mechanism through it just to be safe, and let out a large sigh of relief. _That's that…I guess all I have to do is endure their inane laughter for…__an hour and a half__. It may drive me crazy…but I'm sure I'll get over it in the morning._

The thing was…there was no more laughter. All the sounds had suddenly and eerily stopped. _Are…are they gone? Am I finally free…?_

_…click…__creeeeeaaaaaak__…_

Edgeworth slowly turned around in horror to come face to face with that of one Mrs. Wendy Oldbag, a face he was sure was on restraining order at least thirty times. She was nestled next to the door, holding it open for a legion of other leering faces to peer in.

"We couldn't just let you spend today all by yourself, now could we, Edgey-poo?" Wendy asked, elongating the last few syllables as if enjoying the taste of them in her mouth. Outside erupted a fresh spout of giggling.

"N-no…No!" said Edgeworth, desperately trying to undo his own shutter lock. The horde, however, slowly made its way towards him, eyes glistening with hunger. "St-stay back! Desist! No! NOOO!"

_**"**__**OBJECTIOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooooooon**__**…"**_

* * *

The next morning found Phoenix (newly overly cautious of old bald men with long white beards) at the Criminal Affairs Dept. All around, employees were in various medical appliances, from IV drips to braces to casts to Iron Lungs. Some looked like they had got a nice tan. Some looked so sunburned that they were in a constant state of tears. Some were just charred black. The air was filled with the anguished moans of the employees, with the occasional yelp. Everyone seemed to be miserable…save one German prosecutor. 

"Hey Franziska. Can you tell me where Edgeworth is? I'd like to discuss tomorrow's case with him."

Franziska gave Phoenix an inquisitive look. "Why, this is interesting. You haven't foolishly asked me what all of the unusual business is, what with everyone so foolishly injured at all. I didn't know you didn't care."

An eyebrow arched in Franziska's direction. "With you around? Please. This kind of stuff probably happens every day." Unsurprisingly, this earned him a warning lash from Franziska's whip.

"…witty. Fourth door, down the hall."

* * *

"Edgeworth?" Phoenix called, opening the door on his own. "Are you in here?" He was granted with no reply, so he did what he always did: started snooping around his rival's office for neat stuff. Pulling open the top drawer of the desk, he found a note that Edgeworth had addressed to him. It read: 

_"Wright,_

_I am indisposed for the time being__. I fear that if I met you today that by tomorrow you would become a decoration piece in the foyer. While we are bitter rivals, death is not something I wish upon you often. Therefore, please do not try and contact me today. Thank you._

_I hate Valentine's Day,_

_Miles __Edgeworth_

_P.S. The first drawer is always the first place you start snooping, I know. Don't take anything from my office this time. I'll know. And you'll have to pay me back this time."_

"Aww…there goes my fun for the afternoon." With a heavy sigh, Phoenix began his walk out of the building. Before reaching the elevator to head back to the ground floor, he overheard a piece of conversation from someone on the telephone.

"No, the bacon was fresh when I got it…yes, dear…yes, dear…**yes,** dear…Okay. Love you, Matilda. Bye."

Phoenix's right eye twitched as he uttered that accursed name again under his breath.

Nothing more need be said except that he went stark raving mad and needed to be sedated by Maya channeling Mia in a nurse's outfit.

* * *

Standing under his cold shower, Edgeworth stared into the showerhead, letting the water wash over his face and his body, doing his best to cleanse himself of last night's events. There was a time when he tried to press charges, sure, but he was denied on the grounds of 'being too damn sexy.' Now…now he just had to endure whatever came at him, and prepare himself for the worst of circumstances. 

"Next time…" he said to none but himself, "next time, that shotgun's going in the drawer…"


End file.
